It ended with a burrito.
And chips. And salsa. And some Nantucket Nectar.
Sunday, my BFF Lily and I took a road trip to Atlanta in hopes of becoming the Mexican-restaurant equivalent of Harold and Kumar.
The exodus was motivated entirely by our love of the chain-restaurant Chipotle, which insiders refer to as Potle. And by insiders, I mean us.
If it sounds crazy to drive 90 minutes just for a burrito, you clearly haven't been to Potle. It's not just a restaurant -- it's the happiest place in the universe. Maybe there wouldn't be so many child molesters in C-bus if we had one.
Anyway, our day was a giant burrito filled with rice, beans and stories about how Zales is the absolute worst jewelry shop ever. Good times.
We also went to Trader Joe's and bought lots of organic food. But no alcohol. It was the Lord's Day.
